


The Day the Music Died

by leakypaintpen



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leakypaintpen/pseuds/leakypaintpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Smile at ghosts old and new.</i> A moment between the dance and the passage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day the Music Died

**Author's Note:**

> Title prompt by [lanalucy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanalucy/pseuds/lanalucy). Also, if Bob Dylan can exist in the BSG 'verse, so can Don McClean.

Lee slumped into a chair and turned it to face the counter on the far side of the rec room. He glanced at the chronometer over the hatch. Twelve minutes, then they’d get started.

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, letting the subdued chatter wash over him and chase away the screams echoing in his skull. Twelve raiders frakking jumped right on top of the CAP, too far for the alert fighters to get to ‘em in time. Then a godsdamned basestar showed up. Rockstar and Lefty had bought it out there, while Sweetness, Polo, and Dinger wound up in sickbay, two of them just out of critical condition. Gods above and below. They hadn’t had an ambush this bad in a long, long time.

A hand settled on his shoulder. “Hey, Lee.” He opened his eyes to find Kara standing on his left, an unspoken question trembling behind her soft greeting.

“Hey.” He gave her his best reassuring smile, even as he shook his head and sighed. “It’s been a hard day. Chief’s best brew’ll help, though.”

Kara peered at the impressive – and growing – collection of bottles on the counter and grinned. “Damn. Half the booze looks like his.”

“Yeah, he dropped by earlier with a donation, just after first dog watch.”

She looked around the room. “He’s not here?”

Lee shook his head again. “Offered to pick up maintenance shifts tonight for any pilot who needed it.” She nodded at that, but said nothing further, and instead worried at her lower lip and stared at a point somewhere in the vicinity of his knees.

Her hand, still resting on him, shifted and tightened its hold. “Kara?” he asked, searching her furled expression for clues. They’d been better since the dance, but there were moments she felt like a stranger, shuttered in a way she hadn’t been before. Whatever had happened in that cell on New Caprica, it’d changed her. He knew better than to pry.

He was considering lacing his fingers though hers when suddenly she stepped back, giving him a parting nod and smile before making her way through a sea of backs and chairs.

“Major!” someone called over the din. Lee exhaled, stood up, and waved to signal his acknowledgment. Time to be CAG again.

\---

“Aaaand _sold!_ To Rattler, now the proud owner of one unopened tube of toothpaste!” announced Shock Jock. He held up and waved the now-empty box that had contained Rockstar’s possessions. “That’s it! Thank you all participants! Winners, please claim your prizes, leave your payment on the counter, and may you enjoy your new belongings as much as their previous owners did. Everyone else, stick around! We’ve got lots more drinks and stories to share!”

A cacophony of scraping chairs joined the babble of voices as people got up to stretch or leave or partake of the booze, cigarettes, and food that Shock Jock was collecting from the winners. They hadn’t had an auction this long or raucous in some time; evidently Lefty had been quite the connoisseur of steamy romances, some with lovingly detailed illustrations.

Nursing some of Chief’s swill, Lee watched Kara as she dropped off triad winnings and swept up her spoils – a couple of paperbacks, a bottle of lotion, and Rockstar’s entire music collection. This far away, he couldn’t catch what Racetrack said to her, but whatever it was made her break out that Starbuck grin and whoop, and his heart leapt at the sight. He sipped, smiling at ghosts old and new. When had he last seen and heard her laugh like that, exultant and free of scorn or bitterness?

“Think she’ll let you borrow them?” asked his wife from inches away, startling him into choking on his drink.

“Dee! Hey!” he greeted once he stopped coughing. “I didn’t see you come in. When’d you get here?”

She pulled up a chair beside him and sat down. “Not long ago. I was standing near the hatch,” she answered, looking around. “Got a good crowd tonight. They were popular, right?”

Starbuck yelled something that sounded like instructions and made odd gestures at Kat, who yelled back across the room as she fiddled with the audio system. What were they up to? He sighed, not sure he wanted to know. “Yeah, they were. Good pilots, good people.”

Dee glanced in Kara’s direction. For a second he could swear her expression chilled, but what brittle edges there were around her mouth melted into a worn, sad smile, and she took his free hand in hers. “I’m sorry about today,” she said, soft and sympathetic. “I wasn’t in CIC – Hoshi was working the comm – but I went down to the hangar deck, and I heard…” Her face fell, and she squeezed his hand. “Days like today, I wish we still had _Pegasus_.”

They rarely happened now, but mentions of his lost ship still sank hooks into his chest. “Oh, Dee. I’m sorry.” He set down his glass to tuck a stray lock behind her ear and stroke her cheek.

“Shouldn’t I be the one doing the comforting?” she laughed, sniffling. “Gods. If it had been you –”

“Hey. Hey, come ‘ere.” As he wrapped her in a tight hug, she clung to his shoulders, buried her face in his neck. “I’m here. I came back.”

“Yeah. You did.” Dee relaxed the embrace just enough to take in his whole face and smile. “I’m glad.”

“I’m glad too.” He kissed her on the forehead, and then on the lips, softly.

At that moment piano chords blossomed from the speakers, and a man’s voice sang:

                _A long, long time ago_

_I can still remember_

                 _How that music used to make me smile._

Though not loud, the notes startled Lee out of the kiss, and in his peripheral vision he caught Kara studying him, tight lines ringing her eyes despite her broad grin. He continued backing into his chair to cover his surprise, all the while giving his wife a small smile as he moved out of her arms.

“You said you want this on repeat?” Kat’s voice rang in the sudden hush.

“Yeah,” answered Starbuck, whipping her head around to face Kat. “Rockstar always enjoyed a good Ride.” She smirked at the double entendre, then poured a drink as she urged, “C’mon, there’s plenty of hooch to go ‘round.”

“But it’s not the right day,” Helo pointed out.

“So?” shrugged Kara, and began belting the lyrics alongside Racetrack. _Bye-bye, Miss Caprican Pie…_

At Dee’s questioning look, Lee shrugged too. “The Don McClean Ride. We had a tradition in college. The day of the transport crash mentioned in this song, we’d get all the whiskey and rye we could find, then play it over and over and drink after each chorus, ‘til all the alcohol was gone.”

His wife raised her eyebrows, frowning a little. “I guess that’s one way to commemorate.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “It was just an excuse to get drunk. Most of us didn’t even know what the song’s about. My brother had to explain it to me, after my first year.” At the memory he started smiling, then froze, stomach sinking as he realized he couldn’t quite recall what Zak sounded like, or how his face shone as he went through each line with his lyrically challenged older brother.

Lee blinked hard and looked up at Dee. “Stick around?”

She shook her head. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t stay out too late.”

“Thanks, Dee. I won’t.” With that answer she stood, dropped a quick kiss on his brow, and turned to leave.

He watched her go, and when she slipped out the hatch, he rose to make his way towards the nearest bottle of “rye” and Kara’s lively voice.

\---

Helo tossed back the last of his drink and slammed his glass onto their table. “That’s it for me.”

“Aw, c’mon Helo! Don’t wuss out on us now,” Starbuck cajoled as she held up and shook in Helo’s face the last bottle of mystery booze – Lee doubted it descended from a grain mash – its contents close to spilling.

Wearing his usual placid bemusement, Karl snatched the bottle from her and set it down by Lee and beyond her reach. “Sharon’s gonna have my ass if I don’t join her soon. You two kids have fun without me,” he declared as he stood, clapped them both on the shoulders, and grabbed his auction prize from the middle of the table.

“Somebody’s whipped,” Starbuck teased, lightly punching his forearm.

Helo just grinned and shook his head. “We can’t all wear the pants in our marriages. Anyway, I’m outta here. Enjoy.”

And then it was the two of them, alone and drunk in the rec room with half a bottle of moonshine and a tired song playing in the background. Frowning at the sensation of déjà vu creeping down his spine, Lee slumped further down his chair and studied his empty shot glass.

Kara cleared her throat and slid her own depleted mug across the table, towards him. “So.”

“So.” He obliged her, filled his glass while he was at it, and handed back her now-full cup just in time for another iteration of the chorus. They raised their drinks to each other, and downed them.

“Remember the last time we did this? A Ride, I mean.” He squinted at her schooled bland smile. So she remembered their little rec room misadventure.

He answered her stated question, though. “Yeah.” Her apartment, four days after the crash. They cleared out all the grain alcohol, and had moved on to ambrosia before she passed out. “Just barely, but yeah.”

She sat back to mirror his slouch, the movement brushing her leg against his. “Y’know, I don’t think I ever listen to this song, ‘cept when we do this.”

“’S a good song. Classic.”

She snorted. “You only know it ‘cause of Zak.”

“True. _He_ was the music _enthusiast_ , like Mom. _I_ got Dad’s tin ear,” Lee acceded, drunkenly over-pronouncing such that Kara rolled her eyes. She was smiling at him, though, really smiling, so he grinned, proud and sheepish, and took a long sip as the chorus came round.

They sat wordless for a few verses. Lee split what remained of the bottle between their glasses and made guesses at what she was woolgathering now. A happier, too-brief moment, he judged by her drink-brightened eyes and the twist to her lips. He had the sudden urge to distract her - with words, or a caress, or something more…

“The anniversary,” she said, bringing him back to himself. “It’s tomorrow. Or today, I guess,” she amended after glancing at the chrono.

Zak’s accident. Another chorus, another drink. “Yeah. It is.”

“Gonna spend some time with your old man?” Kara asked casually.

“We did last year.” She had mustered out by then. Lee wondered what she’d done to mark the occasion planetside. “You?”

“Not sure. We don’t – I haven’t exactly been his favorite person lately,” she noted, her cheery tone laced with hurt.

Lee shook his head. “He’s forgiven you. Even if he hasn’t said it in so many words.” She just nodded, pursing her lips. “Come join us. Dee and I are having dinner with him, but – drop by later.”

“Sure, later,” Kara echoed and took a swig. “How’s Dee? She was with you earlier…”

Lee raised his eyebrows, as much surprised by her civil tone as by her concern, but replied, “She’s a little shook up, but she’ll be fine.” He smiled thinly. “I didn’t expect that – she’s been a comms officer longer than I’ve known her – but… We started seeing each other around the time I got… promoted, and CAP’s been fairly quiet since the rescue, ‘til today. Guess she hasn’t had to really worry about me flying in combat.” He played with his shot glass on the table before he asked, “And Sam? How is he?”

“Don’t know. We don’t talk much,” she answered, but there was no sting in her words, only resignation.

Lee took a deep breath. “Kara, if you still want that billet… I’ll see to it the request goes through.” Mentally he patted himself on the back for keeping his voice even and sincere.

“No! No, it’s fine. You don’t have to do that. Things – they’re okay this way. We’re okay.” But she didn’t look convinced.

Reaching over the table, he covered her hand with his, and at the touch she looked up, her expression almost skittish. “Whatever you need, Kara. Come talk to me,” he offered, rubbing his thumb on the soft skin of her wrist.

The quiet stretched between them, longer and longer like a single silk thread being spun into an intricate web, entangling them both. His pulse kicked up a notch as he took in her eyes, watched her tongue flick over parted lips.

Then her chair slid back with an obnoxious scrape, and her hand was gone, now lifting her cup. “Lefty and Rockstar,” she toasted, and knocked back the last of her drink. He raised his glass to do the same. The Ride was over.

As Kara went to turn off the music, he gathered empty bottles, then waited by the hatch for her to join him. Together they left the room, and walked side by side down deserted corridors.

Just outside the senior pilots’ quarters, Lee turned to go, when her hand brushed his forearm, stilling him. “I’ll catch you later, Lee Adama.”

He smiled and hooked his fingers onto hers, briefly. “See you around, Kara Thrace.”


End file.
